


Destiel Trash

by what_about_the_fish



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Double Anal Penetration, Ejaculate, Kink Shaming, M/M, Sam Ships It, Sam is all alone, Sam is mad, Sam is sad, Strap-Ons, Violence, dumpsters, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 23:44:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5394704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the boys try out a new kink and Sam gets a call he never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Destiel Trash

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry....
> 
> unbeta'd

Sam got the call at 3am on a Thursday.

The gruff voice over the phone could have been speaking Russian after the first sentence left the callers lips. So great was his shock and disbelief that Sam found himself getting angry with the detective, a litany of names falling from his lips filled with venom, all aimed at the words that had been spoken and not the speaker himself. 

The caller was wrong, he must be wrong, had to be.

Sam was crying, when did that start? 

The receiver in his hand, ringing out, filling the silence with its endless disconnected tone. His cheeks were soaked, his shoulders hurt where they wracked out their silent cries, and suddenly it became hard to breathe, hiccupping out his breaths in broken whimpers.

The phone was flung across the room, shattering on impact, next it was the lamp to join it, then books, a glass, anything that could be caught up within arms length, was instantly destroyed. 

Anger coursed through his veins sending deep pulses through his head, searing his skin and blinding him with rage.

Moments, minutes, hours? Who knew how much time had elapsed, when Sam finally crashed to the floor joining the remainder of his bedroom. He swept his fingers through his hair, small cuts on his hands catching on the strands.

“Dammit, Dean.” He muttered to the silent bunker as he drew his tall frame up, letting out a long deep breath of air through clenched teeth.

Sam relied mainly on autopilot, going through the motions to do what needed to be done. He dressed in one of his FBI suits, straightening out his hair, splashing cold water on his face and wrapping his hands in bandages.

Moving as if in a dream, no it was more like a nightmare. Sam left the bunker, to be punched right in the gut when he opened the door.

There sitting outside the bunker was the Impala, waiting, as if its owner was still home. The fact that the car had been left behind was a thought that Sam couldn’t fathom right now. 

What kind of kill had Dean been chasing? What kind of emergency was so great that he travelled in Cas’ beat up old Lincoln and left Baby behind?

Sam got behind the wheel, feeling at odds with himself like he was cheating his brother’s honor by driving to his final battle ground.

The crime scene was already cleared by the time Sam arrived, only some rookie cop had been left behind to keep an eye out, and no amount of flashing his FBI badge was going to put information into this guys brain and out his lips.

With a heavy sigh Sam returned to the car, to take the drive he’d been hoping against all hope to put off as long as possible. He shifted Baby into drive and took off in the direction of the coroner’s offices. 

What was waiting for Sam would stay with him for the rest of his life.

……………..

 

The two men were clinging together in death, Dean’s cock still pushed between Cas’ ass, held there, (as the coroner was pointing out) by the large black strap on that was attached to Dean, just under his own reasonably sized shaft.

Bits of rubbish were clinging to their skin, his brother’s back was grimy with coffee grinds and something black and sticky that Sam resolutely did not want to know what it was.

“Looks like they were going at it in the dumpster when the truck came along, must’ve been a good time, the two never saw it coming. Was the compactor that did them in, suffocation mostly although you’ll note that this chap here has been crushed, all his ribs, chest plate the whole lot is just shards now.” 

Sam just stood there, absolutely mortified. What was this? This wasn’t a hunt gone wrong… This was some kind of kink thing gone horribly horribly wrong. 

A shudder went through his whole body as he turned his attention back to the coroner.

“So as you can see, agent, there doesn’t appear to be any foul play unless you count the fact they managed to both ejaculate while rolling around in …” The coroner didn’t manage to get the next word out of his mouth as Sam’s fist connected with his jaw.

“No. One. Talks. Trash. About. My. Brothers!” Sam punctuated the words out between each strike of his fist. 

The Coroner was a bloody pulped mess when Sam was finished.

His whole body shaking from the adrenaline pulsing through it as he tried to get himself back together, straightening out his suit and wiping the blood from his fist.

……………

 

Sam wrapped Dean and Castiel in their death shroud together, keeping them as they were in life; a profound bond... One that brought them to this untimely end. 

As he touched the lit torch to the funeral pyre he said his final farewells into the cold morning air.

“It was Destiel… Jerk”

**Author's Note:**

> written for SPN Coldest Hits Challenge December edition. The writing prompt was “Destiel Trash AF”
> 
> Go [here](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/134052700890/have-you-ever-struggled-to-get-hits-on-ao3-in-the) and all will be revealed and make a whole lot more sense.
> 
> I'm so sorry to my user subscribers for this falling into your email, and to anyone else who decided it was a good idea to read this trash.


End file.
